


Unconfirmed Reports

by TidalDragon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Community: HPFT, Gen, Mystery, Partnership, Post-Hogwarts, episodic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-06-05 13:37:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6706468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TidalDragon/pseuds/TidalDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Department of Mysteries' mission is not confined to its assigned space within the Ministry's walls. Unspeakables Samuel Hatch and Kellyn Landreth are responsible for investigating the lesser-known creatures and unexplained phenomena of the magical world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unconfirmed Reports

In the pale blue light of Level Nine a lone figure, clad in a finely tailored black suit, strode confidently across the black title floor. The rhythmic clap of his dress shoes striking the coal-colored marble presented a sharp contrast to the otherwise carefully maintained silence of this corridor as moved purposefully toward the lone door in front of him. The man inhaled deeply before reaching for the length of fabric just in front of his crisp white dress shirt and pulling lightly. The renewed tightness of the collar around his neck brought a comforting familiarity and after briefly fussing with the knot of his tie he stopped, knocking thrice in quick succession.  
  
  
Slowly, the door opened, giving way to the crimson carpet of the Grand Anteroom. In the center was a sparsely populated circular table, a single light fixture hanging over the middle like an enormous yellow water droplet. The rich chocolate-colored wood of the table matched the finish on the chairs surrounding it perfectly, the only difference being that the top of the table had been polished relentlessly to a high, mirrored shine.  
  
  
Several similarly attired witches and wizards moved past him down the stairs to take their places, casting cool, warning glances in his direction as they passed by. He snorted. This was going to be another waste of time. If he had to endure hours of ruminations from Liam Cuthbert about what tethered the body and soul to the land of the living and his assiduously documented attempts at resurrecting amoeba he was going to snap. He hadn’t become an Unspeakable to sit around in a glorified basement and test high-minded theories about the essence of magic and humanity.  
  
  
As the table slowly filled, he eased himself slowly, but purposefully down the white granite steps. Frowning at the distinct lack of new faces, he took a seat in one of the few remaining chairs, careful to tuck his jacket just so in order to avoid unnecessary wrinkles. He sighed. They were almost inevitable if the meeting proceeded as normal, but if extensive use of pressing charms could be avoided it was worth the few seconds of trouble now.  
  
  
Finally, the door to the Speaker’s chamber opened. Vexingly, it was only his opinionated mouthpiece that emerged. Gareth Atwater represented everything that disgusted him about the Ministry. Even here, where interference was supposed to be out of the question, Samuel found himself afflicted with political types. The man couldn’t handle a practical assignment to save his life, but give him a room full of research-types and a motivational mission and he could whip them into a frenzy of productivity armed with only a thinly-veiled set of platitudes and a dais. The last time Samuel had been forced to listen to Atwater’s drivel about “consciousness of the collective” in carrying out their jobs he’d ended up having to spend three weeks pitching in with the interviewing of apprentice candidates instead of working in the field. But research output had increased by forty-seven percent the following quarter and a further thirteen the next.  
  
  
“Hello esteemed colleagues,” Atwater began, his smooth voice sounding as slick as his greased-back hair, “Speaker Etheridge deeply regrets being unable to join you today, but in his stead, I have been asked to announce the next phase of Class VII projects that the Ministry has sanctioned for study in the core disciplines. As you will no doubt remember, these projects represent the most advanced leaps forward in magical research and I have the utmost confidence that no one needs reminding that they are all considered integral to the Minister’s mission statement for our department – renewing our growth by reimagining our future…”  
  
  
The 228 minutes of accolades, assignments, and exhortations that followed were as thoroughly excruciating as Samuel had first suspected. As the meeting broke up, he remained seated. It was only ever a nuisance when the scientists who fancied themselves adventurers tried to strike up conversation about his division. A few had been well-meaning, like the balding Winslow Berryhill who had finally been able to retire last year with a full pension, but most were just trying to force conversation. Samuel scoffed. They were completely inept at such small talk and embarrassingly transparent in their efforts to mask their social awkwardness. The fundamental mistake they made was that he was like them. In reality, the young wizard with the dirty blond hair had no such struggles. He simply had no interest in conversing with the present company.  
  
  
“Hatch,” a stern voice barked out into the now empty room.  
  
  
Sighing heavily, he stood and strode toward the small adjoining hallway leading to the Speaker’s chambers. Passing the portraits of leaders past, Samuel scratched at the stubble on his jowl.  
  
  
Entering the large office, he was immediately struck by both the obnoxiously large portrait of Merlin, the legendary wizard and founder of the Department of Mysteries, and the pungent odor of a particularly woody perfume.  
  
  
“Sit, Hatch,” the Speaker demanded, pointing a thick finger at the empty chair in front of his desk.  
  
  
“Of course, sir,” Samuel replied politely, plastering a closed smile onto his face.  
  
  
Inwardly, he rolled his eyes. There was a time when he had looked forward to these little meetings. By now though, he recognized they were only meant to placate him. There was no denying his boss’s formidable CV. That alone earned Samuel’s respect. But after several years of little being done with his reports and no additions being made to his division, the young wizard had accepted that his real role in the Department was as a necessary evil. Someone to deal with issues the scientists weren’t capable of confronting, but that the much-heralded Auror Office lacked the…open-mindedness…or perhaps it was simply the desire, to deal with.  
  
  
As the door shut with a wave of the Speaker’s wand, Samuel pulled up one leg, stroked his chin, and prepared for the inevitable annual debriefing. First, the Speaker would light his small pipe with a match from his top left drawer. Then he would ask how Samuel felt the year had gone. He’d make small talk about Quidditch, and more specifically the Appleby Arrows to loosen things up. Maybe he’d share a story from home or some witty observation he’d made or amusing event he’d been a part of. And then it would inevitably turn to the prospectus he’d submitted at least three months prior until finally…  
  
  
“Ahem.”  
  
  
Samuel looked up to see his Speaker Etheridge’s large blue eyes staring back at him intently from beneath gray, wiry brows. His forehead was crinkled and his jaw set firmly, a sure sign of his impatience. Samuel made his back rigid, focusing his attention fully forward.  
  
  
Etheridge jerked his head toward the other side of his office, twisting the heavy gold signet ring on his right hand. “Someone for you to meet.”  
  
  
In one of the large leather chairs next to the fireplace, Samuel saw a fair-skinned woman wearing pitch-black slacks and an equally dark, collared shirt. She wore a placid expression on her face, though he immediately noticed there was a certain sharpness lurking in her eyes. So that was the source of the perfume. At least it wasn’t another concoction from the Experimental Draughts Division.  
  
  
“Get on then,” the Speaker admonished, gesturing to the two empty chairs near the girl-in-black.  
  
  
Samuel planned to make for the chair furthest from her, but as he stood he was dismayed to find that his boss had read his intent. He looked up to find a stern glare. The twenty-six year-old Unspeakable sighed inaudibly.  
  
  
Settling carefully into the remaining armchair he expected a quick explanation from the Speaker, but instead found himself confronted with a delicate, well-maintained hand coming from the opposite direction.  
  
  
“Kellyn Landreth,” the brunette offered.  
  
  
He accepted the handshake. “Samuel Hatch,” he replied, forcing himself to be polite. “Pleasure.”  
  
  
As their hands parted, the Speaker immediately began launching into one of his irritating monologues. The blond wizard had long since learned to tune out these parts of their infrequent meetings. If conversations with the Speaker could be considered a meal, this portion would undoubtedly be the mediocre bowl of pre-entrée tomato basil – ubiquitous, yet entirely devoid of substance.  
  
  
Instead he reflected on the handshake. He had been firm in his delivery as always and she was as delicately tepid as he’d expected. He hadn’t a clue what the Speaker was thinking even bringing her here. Manicured nails, clearly expert application of cosmetics – perhaps she was some protégé of Atwater’s. The delicate, smooth skin certainly leaned in that direction. While witches had it better than their non-magical counterparts he was sure, he hadn’t detected any sign of a thumb callous – the surest sign of a heavy wand-wielder.  
  
  
As silence mercifully fell seven minutes later, Samuel scooted back slightly in his chair, making his back fully erect once more. “Well–“ Samuel started.  
  
  
Alas, the Speaker, as was his habit, interrupted. “Yes, yes, I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here.”  
  
  
“That was _one_ question I had, Sir.”  
  
  
“Well you’ll be glad to know we’ve found ourselves with a _substantial_ surplus this year. Finally replaced the last of the time-turners we lost back in ’96, but it seems the Minister’s Office never got word. In any event, the money’s got to be spent somewhere. I won’t have my Department suffering efficiency cuts. Truthfully, I didn’t expect any applicants…but here she is,” he said, gesturing toward the witch seated across from him.  
  
  
“Indeed,” Samuel said, eyeing the brunette skeptically.  
  
  
“What’s this? I thought you’d be _pleased_ , Hatch. Given the concerns you expressed after the…incident…in Shropshire. I don’t think some gratitude would be out of order,” Etheridge finished pointedly.  
  
  
“Thank you, Sir,” he answered, dipping his head low and forcing a smile once more.  
  
  
“Speaker…respectfully of course…I thought we were meant to be introduced today–” the woman started.  
  
  
“And so you have been. I’m a busy man Miss Landreth. At the moment, the authorization for your salary is beckoning for my signature there on the desk…” he trailed off. Pausing for a moment to let his words sink in, Etheridge turned back toward Samuel. “I take it you can show her to the office?”  
  


* * *

  
  
  
On the lengthy trudge through the labyrinthine complex otherwise known as the Department of Mysteries, Samuel stewed in silence, each clacking footstep of the high-heeled witch behind him underscoring his frustration. The Speaker’s last words echoed between his ears. As his new…associate…would see soon enough, the word office was an inappropriately aggrandizing misnomer. At times Samuel thought he saw a smirk in the eyes of others who used it.  
  
  
Eventually the two arrived at their destination. A closet-sized room at the end of Corridor S, it was tucked in the same spot as the janitor’s closet on the level above. Though it was admittedly larger, Samuel was certain its placement – and his own – were not by coincidence. Still, it was _his_.  
  
  
“Is there another chair?” the pale-skinned witch asked evenly, her eyes scanning the morass of stacked files, ancient reports, and Ministry microfilm that covered nearly every inch of space.  
  
  
“There used to be. Somewhere,” Samuel muttered. “Though it’s not as if we’ll be here much anyway.”  
  
  
The wizard stared at the top of the pile directly in front of his creaky wooden chair. Grasping his chin and stroking the stubble on his left cheek thoughtfully, he produced his wand.  
  
  
“ _Geminio_ ,” he said wearily, snagging the duplicate as it popped forth and leaning over to hand it off to his new helper. “I’m going for coffee. Read up.” he said sharply as he strode off into the pale blue light.  
  
  
Samuel chuckled to himself as he made the second-to-last turn. High heels and make-up in the Department of Mysteries. She’d hardly fit in that way with the witches she’d find down here. He snorted, one corner of his normally downturned lips curving up in amusement. At least she hadn’t been foolish enough to wear a skirt or a dress. The icy air that occasionally seeped out of the single ceiling vent in their assigned space would have sent her to an early grave. Not to mention that she’d look even more like an idiot.  
  
  
“Som’thin’ funny?” asked Kieran MacDougald as he stepped into the hall holding one of the Department’s standard white mugs.  
  
  
“You don’t know the half of it…”  
  
  
“Well, I’m gla’ it’s put some life inta you. Thought ya might bloody fall asleep wit’ Atwater dronin’ on as he was.”  
  
  
“I’d hardly have been alone,” Samuel replied stepping past his shorter counterpart and into the small, brightly-lit break room. It was quite a contrast, the stark white of everything here amid all the black marble just outside. Samuel shrugged. The coffee was always black enough he supposed.  
  
  
“Yeah. Ye’ got that right.”  
  
  
“Not sucking up today are we?”  
  
  
Kieran scrunched his face in a frown. “Savin’ my strength. Budget’ry reviews an’ what-not this af’ernoon.”  
  
  
“Budgetary reviews?” Samuel laughed.  
  
  
“Think it’s a laugh? You know–”  
  
  
“I do,” the blond wizard interrupted, focusing his eyes on his friend over the edge of his cup as he took a sip of the bitter beverage he’d poured for himself. “It’s not for cuts,” he added.  
  
  
“An’ ‘ow would _you_ know dat? No’ dat ‘ere’s much they could trim from yours…”  
  
  
“Talked to the Speaker,” Samuel winked. “Apparently…we’ve had a windfall.”  
  
  
“ _Really_ now?”  
  
  
“That’s right. Somebody in the Minister’s Office might be getting sacked for a nasty error, but there’s money to spend this year and apparently the Speaker’s intent on spending it.”  
  
  
“Well ‘ow bloody grand,” Kieran grumbled. “Coulda tol’ me ‘fore I made up my report ya know. There’s some excellent equi’ment I might’ve ordered if I knew.”  
  
  
Samuel rolled his eyes. “It just happened this morning. Though if you’ve mentioned it before, you’ll probably get it. Course…if he treats you like me you won’t get any say in _what_ he picks from your recommendations.”  
  
  
“Got some new gear, did ya?” the brown-haired wizard asked, clapping Samuel on the back enthusiastically.  
  
  
The blond wizard scoffed, shaking his head as he took another drink. “Hell no.”  
  
  
“Well den…how’d ya know if you haven’ got anything?”  
  
  
“Got some _one_.”  
  
  
“No…ya been askin’ af’er that fo’ _years_.”  
  
  
“Not exactly what I imagined…more suited to paperwork I think, but that has its place.”  
  
  
“ ‘ell mate. Way they run you inta the groun’ over there I wouldn’ be complainin’…”  
  
  
“We’ll see how it goes,” Samuel sighed. “Anyway…how’s Leah?”  
  
  
“Brilliant, course. Ya know…jus’ perfect…cleanin’ every nook an’ cranny every chance she gets. Leavin’ magazines ‘bout full of rings an’ such.”  
  
  
“On the whole marriage bent again is she?”  
  
  
“ ‘fraid so. Look, ya know me, I’m an’ hones’ bloke! I tol’ ‘er, ‘It’s _not_ ‘appening righ’ now, dearest,’ but you know ‘ow she gets. Sees it as some sorta encouragement some’ow. Witches…bloody barmy. You’ve gotta come ‘round some point. Maybe drop some hints ‘bout ‘ow well the single life’s treatin’ ya and that’ll set ‘er straight a bit.”  
  
  
Samuel laughed again. “I think that might be more likely to get you sent to the couch for a week.”  
  
  
“She can’ sen’ me ta da couch! It’s my place!”  
  
  
“It’s _both_ yours now…don’t say I didn’t warn you in advance. I told you how Cassie got.”  
  
  
“Yeah, bu’ Cassie was _different_. Not liked ya loved ‘er really. I can’ be like you, ‘atch. Col’ blooded. I get attached, ya know?”  
  
  
“Not really.”  
  
  
“Yer a ‘ard bloke…”  
  
  
“And behind schedule,” Samuel groaned, stealing a glance at his watch. “There’s no telling what trouble she’s gotten up to by now either.”  
  
  
“ _She_?!” Kieran called out after him.  
  
  
“Yeah,” Samuel shouted back. “ _Real_ fancy too. Just your style!” he chuckled loudly, shaking his head as he began to contemplate his first mission briefing.  
  
  
He’d learned the file backwards and forwards since it crossed his desk three days ago. Pluckley was known for strange activity, even among muggles. Historically, most of the reports were fairly pedestrian however, especially for magical folk. Talk of various ghosts abounded in the community, even attracting tourists, and there was an absurd rumor of screams and other bizarre events occurring in and around the woods in the immediate area. Recently however, things in the small town had taken a genuinely intriguing turn.  
  
  
Entering the office, he immediately noted that Landreth was sitting in his chair.  
  
  
“What are you doing?” Samuel asked brusquely.  
  
  
“Sitting,” the brunette deadpanned. “I couldn’t be sure when…or if…you’d be returning.”  
  
  
The blond wizard frowned at her attitude. “I trust you’ve been doing some reading as well?”  
  
  
“Some. Though I can’t say it was terribly informative. Muggle news clippings and a preliminary report from their local police department…”  
  
  
“Yes, well…I’m not sure if it came up in your interview, but information is a rather large part of why I–” Samuel cut himself off, briefly clearing his throat before correcting himself. “rather _we_ are here.”  
  
  
He smirked back as she cast a sharp glare in his direction. “Come on then, let’s go.”  
  
  
“Go?”  
  
  
“To Pluckley.”  
  
  
“Now?”  
  
  
“Yes, _now_ ,” Samuel snapped in irritation.  
  
  
“I’ll just have to Floo back to mine and then–”  
  
  
“Just apparate. And be back in ten ready to go.”  
  
  
“Apparate? We’re inside the Ministry.”  
  
  
“And you’re a bloody Unspeakable,” Samuel said hotly.  
  
  
Recognition dawned on her face. “Ten minutes? What’s the rush? If we can just apparate–”  
  
  
“We’re taking the train. Draws less attention.”  
  
  
“We’re taking a muggle train?”  
  
  
Samuel rolled his eyes. “Just get back here. Other departments might offer free time chit-chat while you set up a desk or over lunch at some quaint restaurant on Diagon Alley, but we have work to do. You won’t last long if you can’t keep up.”  
  
  
Once again her eyes shot daggers in his direction. With a crack, she was gone, taking her pout and mascaraed eyelashes with her.  
  
  
Samuel reclaimed his chair, cracking his neck and exhaling. She was completely out of her depth.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
As darkness began to set, the two Unspeakables trudged along a muddy trail that thousands of pairs of feet had long since beaten into the English countryside. Samuel looked skyward into the gray ceiling above them. He sniffed the air tentatively.  
  
  
“Rain soon…” he offered almost absentmindedly.  
  
  
Now her nose was buried in the map he’d bought from the shop near the station. He almost shrugged. At least it wasn’t the air. She’d come back from changing in a suitable shirt and jeans, even surprising him with an actual pair of hiking boots. Alas, she hadn’t lost the haughty demeanor. Probably a Slytherin second-chancer – too young to take up a wand against freedom, but too old to forget nasty pureblood teachings. She was certainly cold enough. The new-look Ministry was far too forgiving for its own good.  
  
  
Sighing, he refocused his attention on the task at hand. He’d been drawn to the map in the first place by the pictures of two isolated homes among snapshots of forested hills. Immediately upon seeing them a note from the file sprung to mind. The house on the right, a sturdy two-story farmhouse had definitely been in one of the police reports. The site of the fourth vanishing.  
  
  
“Yeah,” came the much delayed response as she kept her eyes down.  
  
  
Samuel stopped abruptly. The air was strangely quiet for a late summer evening. Ahead he could barely make out the outline of the house from the picture. Turning to his left he noted a gently sloping open field of about one hundred meters that gave way to the steeper rise of a grassy hill. At the top was what appeared to be a copse of trees that appeared to have fallen into disuse. Samuel shook his head. It had probably served the farmers and the land well for generations before the place had been converted into a country getaway. Finally he noticed Landreth’s footfalls cease.  
  
  
Looking up from the map, she called out to him from nearly twenty meters down the trail. “What are you doing? I thought we were wanted to make the house before darkness really set in. You said we–“  
  
  
“Quiet!” Samuel interrupted. “Just give me a minute.”  
  
  
“If we’re not inside we can’t set up the proper precautions…”  
  
  
“I _know_ ,” Samuel snapped.  
  
  
He looked beyond the hilltop to the encroaching forest beyond, its edge reaching out toward their position like a shadowy finger. Scratching the back of his head, he wondered. _What if_ …  
  
  
“You read the reports?” he asked sharply.  
  
  
“Yes, of course.”  
  
  
“All disappearances after sunset, correct?”  
  
  
“That’s what the local police said.”  
  
  
Samuel glanced at his watch. _1956_. It was already bloody sunset.  
  
  
“We have thirty-five minutes.”  
  
  
“Until what?”  
  
  
“Until we have to be _out_ of that house,” he finished, bolting off down the trail.  
  
  
Samuel reached the property first. Under normal circumstances he’d secure it before entering, but after running nearly three kilometers, he guessed they had a maximum of twenty or so minutes left. Wiping the beginnings of sweat from his hairline, he tested the lock on the back door. No good.  
  
  
“ _Alohamora_.”  
  
  
He listened for the tell-tale click, but…nothing had happened. The damn Aurors had fully sealed it. _This_ was the problem with the lack of communication between departments. Glancing down the edge of the house he saw that a line of bushes blocked easy access to a window. Shaking his head he turned back to the thick brown door and raising his leg, kicked hard, violently separating the lock from the doorframe amid the sound of splintering wood.  
  
  
“What was…that…for?” Landreth panted behind him.  
  
  
“Present from our more famous friends,” Samuel said sardonically as he stepped carefully inside.  
  
  
After passing through a stony mudroom, he followed the short hallway until it split. Samuel looked both ways. The left passage would take him into the surprisingly pristine kitchen. The right led directly to a narrow wooden staircase.  
  
  
He felt breath on his right ear. “Should we split up?” came his associate’s softer voice.  
  
  
“Merlin!” he hissed, putting extra distance between them.  
  
  
The brunette rolled her eyes. “What are you whispering for?”  
  
  
“Because,” Samuel growled, “it’s not clear if we’re alone.”  
  
  
Before he could stop her, she flicked her wand. “ _Hominum revelio_!”  
  
  
The older agent braced himself.  
  
  
Nothing.  
  
  
Landreth crossed her arms, a thoroughly nonplussed expression on her face. “Now we’ll just worry about the time. I assume we’re looking for something?”  
  
  
Samuel scowled. “You could’ve gotten us _killed_.”  
  
  
The witch merely tapped her foot in response.  
  
  
“Do you remember where they found the last traces of the victim?”  
  
  
“Sure.”  
  
  
“Find it. See if anything’s missing in the vicinity.”  
  
  
“And where are you going?”  
  
  
The wizard turned his eyes upward, grabbing the bannister of the darkened staircase. “I’ll be directly above you.”  
  
  
Upon reaching the second floor, Samuel checked his wrist. _2012_. He needed to identify the spot directly above the suspected site of the disappearance. That had been the leather armchair near the fireplace. Suddenly feeling a slight itch in his ear, he worked his ring finger inside it roughly.  
  
  
He crept slowly through the shadows of the upstairs hallway, the last bits of light seeming to die at his feet as he reached the doorway to a small bathroom. The space looked entirely un-noteworthy. A small hand towel rested neatly near the bowl of the sink. Above it hung a small, square mirror in which Samuel could see half of his face faintly reflected. For a moment, two fingers plied at the stubble of his left jowl. He moved on. It was a waste of time.  
  
  
Roughly five meters from the end of the hallway he detected a subtle change in the firmness of his footfalls. He was certainly over the living room now, some distance from significantly supporting walls. He looked to the ceiling. Yes. They’d counted here on the sturdiness of the rafters. A few steps later, Samuel found a door, slightly ajar. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. A damn linen closet. He knocked gently on the back wall. It was still _possible_ the last bedroom extended that far.  
  
  
Upon entering said bedroom, his investigation was immediately interrupted by a loud yell. Sheer incompetence. Best to ignore it. Moving deeper into what was clearly the master suite, he was surprised to find that the vent from the fireplace below continued on, clearly joining with a fireplace on the back wall before the shared chimney emptied into the outside air. A bizarre design for the age of the home, but an excellent point of reference for his search. Starting at the edge of this new hearth he began to pace the distances given in the file.  
  
  
“I’ve been calling out for you,” Landreth interrupted, clearly in a huff.  
  
  
“And I’ve been otherwise occupied.”  
  
  
Samuel heard her foot tapping again.  
  
  
“ _What_ is so pressing? We have,” he began, pausing only to check the time, “Thirteen minutes remaining to be _finished_ here.”  
  
  
“I located the area like you asked.”  
  
  
“Brilliant. Was finding the large armchair and identifying a radius that challenging?”  
  
  
“Considering the armchair had been moved, it was rather more difficult than you might’ve expected.”  
  
  
“Moved?”  
  
  
“Bottom floor’s been cleared of furniture. Family most likely.”  
  
  
“No,” Samuel said sharply. “Family would’ve dealt with everything.”  
  
  
“Fine. Now we’ve raced here what do you want me to do?”  
  
  
Samuel pivoted left and walked three more steps. Using his wand he marked a white circle on the floor around where he stood. Rummaging through his pockets, he eventually produced a measuring tape and leaned down, extending the end from his toe to the edge of the circle. 1.15 meters. Perfect.  
  
  
“I want you to do as I do.”  
  
  
Scanning the room quickly, the veteran’s eyes fell on a book on the bedside table. Summoning it, he placed it on the floor beside his boot and duplicated it.  
  
  
“What are you–“  
  
  
“By God!” Samuel snapped. “You manage silence for an entire train ride, but the moment we begin the active portion of an investigation you can’t shut up.”  
  
  
For once, the brunette became surprisingly cowed. He’d have to explore later which nerve that struck.  
  
  
Focusing intently, the blond wizard tapped the original book three times. “ _Obiectum reformabit!_ ”  
  
  
He eyed his target carefully as it transformed before him, ultimately settling into the form of a large rat. The rodent sniffed the air, but before it could escape the circle, Samuel stopped it in its tracks with a quickly cast Freezing Charm. Standing, he turned toward the younger witch.  
  
  
“You know the spells?”  
  
  
She nodded.  
  
  
“Downstairs. In the radius. Do it now.”  
  
  
“Where will–“  
  
  
“I’ll be outside. North toward the forest just beyond the curtilage.”  
  
  
Leaving her to the task, Samuel rushed downstairs and toward the mudroom. _2026_. She would have precious little time. As he passed the door he’d broken in, Samuel stooped low to grab their rucksacks, both lying side-by-side.  
  
  
A twig snapped in the darkness and he whipped around, wand drawn. Checking his surroundings as best he could, he edged back away toward the position he’d promised to hold. Reaching it, he lit his wand as faintly as possible and began looking carefully for strand of hair or _something_ biologically connected to Landreth. The noise could easily have been nothing, but they needed security in case and if she was to pass through his protective wards she’d have to be magically identifiable to the boundary he created. Alternating between his search and monitoring the immediate area, he ultimately found nothing. Samuel pounded the earth with his fist. If she hadn’t wasted such time…  
  
  
Damn her. _2029_.  
  
  
He rose to his feet, staring at the broken door hanging loosely from its hinges, and rubbing both hands over the stubble around his mouth. The moment to rush in and drag her out had come and gone. If he entered now… Suddenly the shadows in the doorway shifted. Shorn of the cavalier attitude she’d displayed inside she was flying toward him at a full sprint. Samuel remonstrated to her with his hands. There was no time to waste. They’d done what was needed but if she didn’t get clear…  
  
  
The heavy silence that had coated the area enough to first draw his attention was suddenly broken as he watched her race the last twenty meters to where he stood. Though it started slowly at first, he detected an unmistakable buzzing that was now rising steadily in volume and pitch.  
  
  
She was next to him, panting.  
  
  
Inside the house, he saw a fleeting flash of light.  
  
  
The buzzing stopped.  
  
  
 _2031_.  
  
  
Off in the distance, they heard the first sound of the countryside return – an owl hooted with a fierceness both knew well. It was a warning.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
At the edge of the forest closest to the house, Samuel and Landreth had set up camp. Fortunately, the rain he’d worried over had never come, the clouds fleeing and giving way to a bright night sky. While she was busy demonstrating a surprising aptitude for erecting their tent without magic, he had tended to the fire and the wards. Searching for kindling in the dark had not be easy, but at least he’d brought along a flashlight. Landreth hadn’t looked as bewildered as he’d expected when he’d pulled it out of his rucksack for the walk to the woods, and he was thankful to avoid a deluge of questions.  
  
  
Despite the hour, the world around them was alive with sound. Insects hummed and chirped, some venturing out into the warmer air high above the flames. Beyond that was the canopy of the ancient trees, rustling every now and then from what Samuel imagined must have been a nice breeze. For the two Unspeakables it was impossible to feel, surrounded as they were by thick trunks and bushy undergrowth, but it was relaxing to listen to anyway after an eventful evening.  
  
  
The sound of canvas slapping canvas drew his attention and he watched Landreth emerge from the tent. Samuel sighed. Her going to sleep would’ve been too much to ask for. As she took a seat on the far end of the log he’d dragged over he could see her eyeing him in his periphery.  
  
  
“So,” she ventured, “are we going to talk about what happened back there or do you plan on leaving me in the dark the entire time?”  
  
  
“You’ve got the same information I do,” Samuel shrugged.  
  
  
Landreth harrumphed. “We were going to _stay_ at that house. And then,” she snapped her fingers “we were trying to pull an in-and-out job. Like Infiltrators.”  
  
  
The blond wizard sighed, staring into the dancing flames.  
  
  
“I may have an idea of what’s going on,” he admitted. “Though it’s far-fetched, even for us.”  
  
  
Turning to face her, Samuel noticed his dark-haired associate watching him expectantly. Well, she’d have to hear this sort of thing sooner or later. “Did you get to my notes yet?”  
  
  
“In the file? Of course. I’ve read it all back-to-front at least four times…”  
  
  
Hell. That was commitment.  
  
  
“It was mostly historical information though. Old rumors and some bizarre sketches. Aside from the map–“  
  
  
“You didn’t pay much attention,” he finished.  
  
  
For the first time, the younger witch avoided his gaze. “I focused on the hard evidence.”  
  
  
Samuel nodded, allowing himself a slight smirk. “I expected as much.” He paused. “Anyway, I think a seven-stone may be our culprit.”  
  
  
Landreth looked as if she might vomit for the briefest of moments before bursting into laughter. Samuel was shocked at how light it was and though he was loathe to admit it, the surprise rendered it strangely…acceptable.  
  
  
“I- I’m sorry,” she said, composing herself. “But everyone knows seven-stones are just a story to inspire children about the power of magic. Like Father Christmas. No one has ever even _found_ a seven-stone.”  
  
  
Samuel frowned. “The same was said of lethifolds for centuries as well.”  
  
  
Landreth cocked her head slightly, eyeing him skeptically. “I don’t disagree about _lethifolds_ , but those are creatures. The stories say that seven-stones are concealed by incredible magic, the combined efforts of their creators to repel muggles and prevent a wayward witch or wizard from activating them by mistake.”  
  
  
“I don’t contend that it was any kind of mistake.”  
  
  
“Dark wizards? But then the Aurors–“  
  
  
“No,” Samuel interrupted. “Most likely a descendant of one of the creators who still lives in the area. The person may not even be aware of what they’re doing. That it really works. There’ve only been two human disappearances.”  
  
  
The brunette pursed her lips tightly. “I just don’t think so. What’s the proof?”  
  
  
Samuel reached out a hand, beckoning for the file. Opening it carefully, he headed straight for the photos, fishing the separate envelope out of the back and tossing it to his associate. As she pulled out the images, full of the striking color and detail he admired in modern muggle photographs, he began to narrate.  
  
  
“Photographs 1-15. The McAuley farm, site of the first disappearance, 4 August. Aiden McAuley was cooking a pot of stew when he vanished from the kitchen.”  
  
  
“Okay…”  
  
  
“Skip ahead to the DMLE shots eight days later.”  
  
  
The blond wizard saw her scrutinizing the two images closely, her mouth barely open as she nibbled on her tongue. If she was going to be any good she’d have to see it. Of course the muggles would’ve grabbed the ladle and dirty washrag left behind on the floor, but the pictures gathered by the Investigative Support team were broader, offering a full view of the kitchen from just outside the room’s boundary.  
  
  
Landreth’s finger went to her lips, before she turned to him, wagging it in the air between them. “The spider’s egg sac is missing. Right?”  
  
  
“Precisely. And we arrived at the same location as photographs 62-98 tonight. Eight days later. What was taken from the same area?”  
  
  
“The rats…”  
  
  
Reaching into his pocket, Samuel produced his copy of the map they’d purchased, along with a pen. He bit on the end as he pored over the dimly lit paper to find the house. There! He marked it with a small circle. He drew a tiny triangle at the spot on the trail where he’d first noticed the eerie silence as well.  
  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
  
“Plotting locations…” the blond wizard mumbled, placing circles at the other readily identifiable sites.  
  
  
“And–“  
  
  
“Just a moment,” he said sharply.  
  
  
Carefully, he set a fingertip at each end of the crude muggle distance line in the bottom left corner. Eyeballing the circles he had set he could tell that just that distance, two kilometers, wouldn’t be nearly enough. He searched for the deepest part of the wood he could find that was also some way from water. It wouldn’t do if the protection for the seven-stone made even a small waterway unusable to others. Starting from the house they’d just left he measured off the first leg. Hmm. He tried the McAuley farm next. No. That distance was wrong.  
  
  
“Closer to the water might be okay,” Landreth offered. “Some magic demands it.”  
  
  
True enough. And there was a deeper location that was close to a very thin portion of the river. He checked it against the others.  
  
  
“Ten kilometers from the house, I think,” he said. “That general area.”  
  
  
“We struck out too far to the northwest tonight,” she commented. “It’s going to get dense. We need to double back first. It’s good I packed a compass.”  
  
  
Samuel was struck by the observation. Likely only a witch or wizard with muggle relations or advanced coursework in astronomy would know the tool. And her reaction to the flashlight…well, there hadn’t really been one. Interesting.  
  
  
“Do you know how to use one?” she asked.  
  
  
Samuel scowled, though it quickly faded.  
  
  
“I suppose I should’ve assumed by now. You’re quite familiar with muggle equipment aren’t you?”  
  
  
“Part of the job.”  
  
  
Quiet fell over them for the moment and Samuel looked upward. He could make out the moon now through occasional slits in the trees’ swaying branches. It had gotten quite late.  
  
  
“I’ll take first watch,” he declared. “Relieve me at 0400?”  
  
  
Landreth nodded, standing up slowly from the log and plodding toward the tent. Samuel cast a glance over his shoulder as her footfalls began fading. He’d have to request her personnel file upon their return.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Samuel shook his head as the brunette moved effortlessly from stone to stone, crossing the river with remarkable ease. The expedition had been full of surprises, not least of which was the witch’s ability to overcome obstacles. Unfortunately, the one they’d just conquered was merely symptomatic of another – somewhere along the way they’d gotten dreadfully off course. He had calibrated the compass itself and Landreth had maintained a hawkish vigilance over the needle the entire way. Now her nose was stuck firmly in the map again.  
  
  
“We’re two kilometers west as best as I can tell,” she grumbled, throwing a hand up in exasperation. “It has to be enchantments of some kind, though I never would’ve guessed they’d shove us this far. The barrier must be adaptive.”  
  
  
The blond wizard nodded, scratching idly at the back of his head. Though much of their journey had been in silence again this morning, her rising frustration had not escaped his notice. Landreth exhibited interesting habits under stress. When she’d first admitted they may be off course, she’d started swatting at the small insects with increasing frequency. Roughly twenty minutes later came the abrupt pauses, followed closely by a sudden fixation with the adequacy of her ponytail. Ahh. And she’d just lashed out at a rock. It was impossible to suppress a chuckle.  
  
  
Immediately, Landreth rounded on him. “What’s funny about this?” she snapped, her pale skin beginning to flush, this time from more than exertion.  
  
  
“Nothing,” Samuel deadpanned. “I’d just rather think about a workaround than take out my anger on harmless objects.”  
  
  
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.  
  
  
“Problem?”  
  
  
“I’ll be fine. It’s just a headache.” Slowly she bent down to refill her canteen from the river.  
  
  
That wasn’t a half-bad idea. Samuel reached back to the side of his rucksack and grabbed his own, relishing the coolness of the liquid sliding down his throat. He shook it lightly. Half-full should be fine.  
  
  
Looking up he saw Landreth wearing a suddenly animated expression. She jerked her head in the direction of the woods above them. His eyes tracked there immediately. Near the edge of the forest, he spotted a small black bird in flight or…well, it appeared to be flight. It was some way off from them, but it appeared to be failing miserably to progress beyond a small boulder to the east. Discouraged after a minute or so of making no headway, it flew off in a different direction, soaring over the trees.  
  
  
With renewed vigor, both Unspeakables ascended from the riverbed, quickly making their way to the place where they had noticed its predicament. Samuel reached out a hand over the rock at their feet. With his palm facing outward, he slowly extended his arm. Certain particularly strong enchantments sometimes emitted an irrepressible force that could be detected. If one drew close enough to the barrier, the palm could feel faint heat, as if it were poised just above smoldering coals.  
  
  
“Don’t!” Landreth said suddenly. “It’s not just a standard enchantment!”  
  
  
Samuel pulled his hand back.  
  
  
“I think it’s…runic. If that makes any sense.”  
  
  
“It could. Frisian witches and wizards resettled in England as more and more of their home territory was gobbled up during the Middle Ages. They were gifted with runic magic, especially the ones that could trace family to more northern reaches of Scandinavia.”  
  
  
The brunette eyed him warily. “Someone paid attention to Ancient Runes…”  
  
  
Samuel snorted. “Better than History of Magic with Binns.”  
  
  
“Fair enough. Can you read them?”  
  
  
Samuel squatted down alongside her where some faint etchings were visible on the rock. It was quite clever. Runes had never caught fire in England like other disciplines and as such were not carefully studied by those in the magical community. The fact that the course was entirely elective at Hogwarts spoke to the relative ignorance most witches and wizards had of even their fundamentals. These were also crammed closely enough together that from a distance they could appear to be merely normal erosion. Even a seasoned explorer…or investigator…could have easily missed them.  
  
  
Most appeared to be a smattering of various runes representing trees, from _beorc_ to _āc_. Indeed, it was almost exclusively those, but in the center of the cluster were three that differed. The first was quite like an x – _gyfu_ – he remembered. And it was followed by slanted cross and a vertical line drawn through the center of a small circle. He rubbed at his chin. The meaning seemed odd.  
  
  
“Most of them, I think, represent the forest. These three in the middle…they’re clearly some sort of indicator. Something that lies in the middle of the forest. On from here. It’s not a combination I recognize, but literally it would signify a gift, but also both need and harvest.”  
  
  
“So how would we press on?”  
  
  
“Actual runecasting is…temperamental. First we need to comprehend the meaning…enunciate it perfectly. There could be a ceremony. And there’s no guarantee it would unlock the barrier. It could simply be a signpost…”  
  
  
Landreth stood, placing her hands on her hips. She exhaled in frustration, tucking her hair behind her ears again. “Well what would you recommend?”  
  
  
“I’ve never cast a combination I hadn’t precisely interpreted before. Like a lot of spells, meaning can be everything…”  
  
  
“So apply it to the case!” she pressed. “If it’s a seven-stone…runes could be powering it right?”  
  
  
“They would be, almost by definition,” Samuel said, throwing up his hands. “In this context...” he looked upward, “…it could be…the seven-stone is a gift for _use_ during a time of need?”  
  
  
Landreth’s face lit up. “Right! And the harvest is _how_ they’d use it! It’s a gift because they can use the seven-stone to harvest what they need – which lines up with it only transporting living things.”  
  
  
Samuel shrugged. “I don’t have a better explanation.”  
  
  
“Try casting them then.”  
  
  
Slinging off his pack, Samuel rummaged around inside before pulling out a small leather pouch.  
  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
  
“The bloody runes! It’s not just a swish-and-flick enterprise.” Having pulled the proper tiles out, he turned his eyes back to his associate. “Now cover me,” he ordered. “If somebody’s watching they could act at any moment.”  
  
  
After checking his surroundings, Samuel produced his wand, carefully etching the spaces for the tiles into the ground between him and the boulder. Tapping the empty area above the spaces once, he began the process. “ _De hagorún_ …” Instantly the borders he had traced began to glow orange and one by one, he placed the runes in the order matching that on the boulder. As each rune began to glow in succession, Samuel tapped the rune, speaking its name loudly. Finally, he tapped the empty area above the once again, shouting loudly, “ _Ádrogenu_!”  
  
  
Immediately, the runes on the boulder began to illuminate…only this time, they were not in Samuel’s casting color.  
  
  
“Get clear!” he yelled.  
  
  
But it was too late. The inscribed rock emitted a surge of energy, throwing them back forcefully toward the riverbed. Samuel fumbled his wand and glanced downward before scrunching his eyes shut and waiting for impact.  
  
  
“ _Arresto momentum_!” Landreth yelled.  
  
  
Samuel opened his eyes slowly to find the younger witch standing on the rocks above the riverbed, wand extended. Muttering a silent thank you, he took a deep breath and exhaled before she canceled the spell, allowing him to drop harmlessly to the ground.  
  
  
Roughly two hours later they were no closer to penetrating the barrier, though Samuel was at least thankful it hadn’t pushed them back further in reaction to their failed attempts. Finally exhausted and drenched in sweat, both sat slumped against the boulder that had started it all, sipping from their canteens.  
  
  
The blond wizard turned his head to the left and surveyed Landreth’s disheveled state. Thankfully her eyes were closed, but he marveled at the change. In the Speaker’s office two days again she’d been entirely done up and even on departure she’d failed to entirely abandon cosmetics and well-coiffed hair. Now the strands she’d been fighting to keep out of her face were either matted to it or hanging weakly alongside. Even her ponytail was in disarray. He closed his own eyes briefly before standing up.  
  
  
“C’mon,” he said with a heavy sigh, “get up. Time for another go.”  
  
  
She opened her eyes slowly, the weary look within the only sign of protest she could muster.  
  
  
Wiping his brow, he offered a hand and pulled her to her feet.  
  
  
“Well, I’m going for the runes again,” he said, kneeling down. “Ready?”  
  
  
“Ready,” she acknowledged.  
  
  
After the nearly catastrophic reaction from the barrier they hadn’t try runecasting since. But given that they were now racing time to prevent another disappearance, Samuel had resigned himself to the risk. Before starting the process, he considered the runes again. Clearly casting them in matching order was incorrect, but he had read once that some responsive casts demanded a different approach. Perhaps if he were to cast it as more of a…plea?  
  
  
Initiating the spell, he placed the first rune in position. “ _Nȳd_ ,” he spoke clearly, moving on in his newly contemplated progression. “ _Gēr_ … _gyfu_ …” he finished the process, spaces and runes lit in orange. This time as he watched, the runes on the boulder began to glow the same color. Quickly, Samuel placed his back in the pouch and grabbed his rucksack.  
  
  
“Grab my hand and let’s go,” he insisted, beckoning to Landreth. Together, they crossed the threshold that had previously denied them.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Landreth yawned as the two Unspeakables moved closer to their intended target. Having moved past the barrier that had pressed them of course, the brunette had done her best to recalibrate the compass to what she believed to be their new position and they renewed the march.  
  
  
As they’d continued, the forest had grown increasingly dense and the ground ever more untamed, with vines and underbrush of seemingly every type joining large roots in hindering their progress. Finally seeing more light ahead, Samuel wasn’t sure whether to celebrate or simply stop and unleash his anger. Landreth hadn’t been nearly as snippy since kicking that rock he reckoned and he paused briefly to consider whether it had been a cathartic experience for her. And now they were reaching the other edge of the forest without having seen a damn thing.  
  
  
Still, with no real reference for how far they’d come other than his own fatigue, he held Landreth back for a moment, raising his wand as a signal. Perhaps it wasn’t the end of the forest. It could be something more he reminded himself bitterly, like one of the many false clearings they’d encountered since breaching the barrier. Thankfully she responded to his warning and drew her wand, moving slightly to the left so that they could approach the area from multiple angles.  
  
  
To his immediate right however, Samuel noticed what appeared to be a somewhat clearer path along a moderate downward slope. Though it was impossible to jump to conclusions where nature was concerned, this seemed a little too different to dismiss. The blond wizard constantly checked his line of sight as he moved forward until – “My God…” he gasped.  
  
  
In front of him was a massive tapered stone, flat at the base but rounded throughout its body, all the way to the tip. Moving further into the light he saw more of them come into view. One would have been impressive enough, a mighty obelisk in the center of a wood, but this – _this_ was stunning. And he knew immediately what it had to be. Carefully, he crept toward the raised stone disc in the center – the dais stone. Though far more elaborately laid out, it appeared to have the same runes inscribed on its surface as the boulder.  
  
  
“Hatch!” a female voice called out. “Hurry, you have to see this!”  
  
  
“I’m seeing plenty,” he shot back. “Stop yelling. I’m right in the middle of it.”  
  
  
“I know,” she barked. “I can see you. I’m not talking about the stones.”  
  
  
Casting his eyes back upward, he could faintly make out the raised wand arm of his associate. Stepping away reluctantly, he made his way toward her. But even before he arrived he saw it, a wooden cage with the missing residents inside. So much for the culprit not knowing what they’d done.  
  
  
“There’s no barrier,” she said quickly. “I fired a spell at the base to make sure.”  
  
  
Suddenly a spell blasted into the ground just behind them, sending soil flying everywhere.  
  
  
Before the dust cleared, more curses surged toward them.  
  
  
Samuel cursed as he fell to one knee, blood starting to seep into one leg of his jeans. As Landreth fired covering curses toward their unseen assailant, he turned back toward the cage and ordered the prisoners to stand back before casting a Severing Charm. The wood splintered immediately with a satisfying crack and he dragged them out, sending them up the hill to the North and away from the fight.  
  
  
“Just one or more?” he hissed.  
  
  
“Can’t tell,” Landreth answered. “The stones are great cover.”  
  
  
“Gr – _Protego_!” he shouted, narrowly deflected a nasty hex that had been flung in their direction. “Flank him,” he ordered. “Now. If he gets a chance, he’s bound to set it off again.”  
  
  
Samuel sent a flurry of offensive spells toward the area where the last attack appeared to come from. He was pleased to see in his periphery that Landreth has wisely taken the opportunity to close in quickly, taking a position behind one of the stones on the far left. The next spell sent his way skewed upward badly and Samuel seized the opportunity to pile on the pressure. As he was considering the merits of finishing the sequence with a Reductor Curse of his own however, her heard a loud crack above him and rolled painfully forward to avoid the large falling limb. Not so skewed after all.  
  
  
Another curse was inches from striking him and he ducked a third before rolling left and missing with the small ball of flame he’d directed at his opponent.  
  
  
Thankfully, Landreth was now on the offensive and he heard a shout of pain as one of her spells seemed to strike home. Moving forward as quickly as he could, he forced the attacker back when the man tried to skirt her by seeking cover in his direction. As they both pressed forward, he saw a full body bind catch the wizard in the chest.  
  
  
“Your catch,” Samuel said, flashing a thumbs-up. “I’ll secure him and clean this up. You catch those muggles,” he urged. “And Landreth,” he added before she sprinted off, “Bloody good job.”  
  


* * *

  
  
  
In the cramped office off Corridor S, a once again smartly-dressed Kellyn Landreth was finishing her final report when Samuel Hatch walked in.  
  
  
“I think I’ve satisfied the Speaker,” he said with a nod before taking a sip of his morning coffee.  
  
  
She smirked lightly, “Was it difficult?”  
  
  
“Well…he wasn’t happy about the new obligations he’ll have to liaise with the Archives on our little find, but we did rescue a couple of muggles so…”  
  
  
“So he’s fine?”  
  
  
“He’s fine.”  
  
  
She looked down briefly to sign the final form required to close the file.  
  
  
Samuel tossed a muggle newspaper in her direction. “I think you’ll enjoy that one.”  
  
  
He watched expectantly as she unfurled her very own copy of the _Kent Messenger_. Standing with their families on the front page were two bewildered looking muggles.  
  
  
“Put that up in your flat,” he encouraged.  
  
  
“Tonight, maybe. What do we have next?”  
  
  
Samuel plopped down a copy of page 8 of the _Daily Prophet_.  
  
  
“ ‘Unconfirmed reports indicate unregistered animagi behind thefts in Northumberland…’ “ she read. “Thefts? In Northumberland? Isn’t that more for DMLE?”  
  
  
“Ahh, but it’s got our magic words,” Samuel quipped.  
  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
  
He pointed to the first two words of the article heading. “ ‘Unconfirmed reports.’ ”  
  
  
 **A/N: Howdy readers! As some of you may know, this story has been a long time coming from me, and after several months in development the first installment is finally complete. For those who aren’t aware, this project is one that just wouldn’t leave me alone because: (1) it allows me to do some more exploration of the Department of Mysteries and the inner workings of the Ministry in the Post-Hogwarts Era and (2) it’s going to be something of an exploratory format, where I hope to write the fic as an episodic, TV-season-style short story collection which will be broken down into (if all goes well) multiple seasons.**  
  
 **  
Before I ask my questions, I’ll answer a couple that may be burning (or not) for y’all right up top. First, at present I don’t plan for there to be any relationship of that kind between Hatch and Landreth. I will most definitely be exploring both characters inside of the episodes and action they encounter, as well as their dynamic over time, but I don’t plan for there to be romance there. I never stake myself out as to absolutely what will or will not happen in my longer fics, but that’s where I am now. Second, I am not going to establish a regular update schedule for this fic yet. I really want to see what kind of response there is to this episode and may even come back to edit it before I do that, but if I decide to carry forward with it in the planned format, I will try to establish such a schedule.**  
  
 **  
What feedback would I love from you? Really anything. What did you think of the characters – particularly Hatch and Landreth? What did you think of the odd sort of mystery they were dispatched to solve? Was it clear enough what they do versus other departments/career paths? What do you think of the concept of an episodic approach to fics like we see in a TV series?**  
  
 **  
Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!**  
  
 **TRANSLATION NOTES:**  
  
 ** _Obiectum reformabit_ – “Transform the object” (Latin)  
 _beorc_ – “birch” (Anglo-Saxon Rune – Old English)  
 _āc_ – “oak” (Anglo-Saxon Rune – Old English)  
 _gyfu_ – “gift” (Anglo-Saxon Rune – Old English)  
 _De hagorún_ – “Cast spell” (Old English)  
 _Ádrogenu_ – “done/finished” (Old English)  
 _Nȳd_ – “need” (Anglo-Saxon Rune – Old English)  
 _Gēr_ – “harvest” in this context (Anglo-Saxon Rune – Old English)**


End file.
